Shots of Green, Red, Gold and Blue II
by the-lionness
Summary: AU one-shots featuring 'Legend of Korra' characters. Makorra and others. NEW CHAPTER: "Sexual Tension" Makorra
1. Father & Daughter

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

_TonraqxKorra_

* * *

Father & Daughter

* * *

Korra wasn't just The Avatar.

He was her daughter.

So it hurt to watch her in that moment. The questioning stare in her eyes as she watched Northern Tribe soldiers march along the docks of home, their uniforms dark and unfamiliar, like a virus or a shadow against the backdrop of the sun and the glare that danced across the wet planks.

"Opening the spirit portal was only the first step in getting The Southern Tribe back on its righteous path." He could never say that Unalaq spoke with brightness in his tone, but there was no denying the sligh levity in his tone at this moment. "There's more difficult work to be done before our two tribes are truly united."

He watched Korra looked down, and then he saw them lift and meet his.

She wasn't just The Avatar; he was her daughter, and her being a teenager—so much like and yet so different from the four-year-old girl that had stood in front of him with fire coming from her fingertips and palms, unaware of the traces of awe and fear in his gaze—hadn't stopped those beautiful eyes of hers from being like a window to him.

There was confusion. Confusion at what she was seeing, confusion about what was going on—she had experienced peace and accomplishment on their way back to the tribe. She had performed a duty as The Avatar; she had been allowed to handle things the way she thought were best and had brought back a balance and it showed across the sky. It was more than he had been capable of doing twenty years ago; her power, as always, surpassed his own. But now…

There were faint traces of anger because maybe she had finally seen what he had, that his brother had had ulterior motives. He could see it in the crinkle of her brow: she had just realized that she had again been moved as a pawn on the chessboard of a political game. That she had been seen as only part of what she was, The Avatar, and her power was going to be channeled and manipulated by yet another politician—by her own uncle at that.

And finally, betrayal and regret. It was fleeting, a quick darting of her eyes to the left. The soldiers had made their way closer to their chief. Unalaq walked towards their commander, straight-backed and stiff and shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and Tonraq wondered if her mind went back to Tenzin, to conversations about his past…the things he had done.

Her eyes, full of emotions, found his again. And he knew they recognized him as both a banished prince and her father and ally. And they questioned him, silently:

_What did I do?_

_Did I do something wrong?_

_Is this wrong?_

_What should I do?_

He wanted to give her an answer. He wanted things simple: to keep the story of his past in that time before Korra had been born; to be strong enough, politically powerful enough, to keep Unalaq from coming any further into her home; for her to be four again and be back from the White Lotus compound, excited to see him, sniffing his clothes because she missed his smell and pleading to go out and find otter-penguins to sled just like Master Korra told her she and Avatar Aang did.

But Korra wasn't just his daughter.

She was The Avatar. She had wanted to be trusted to make decisions that would benefit people in need and would bring balance throughout all the world's nations. And he had to trust that she would be able to do that.

So, even though it hurt, he didn't do anything except watch as her brother led her away, and talk in vague sentences about his plans of unity and spiritual enlightenment.

* * *

_Now that the second season is here, I'm going back to writing ficclets. I feel like there is going to be a lot of interesting stuff that happens, and Tonraq is going to be a major player throughout it all. Plus, it's just great to have an opportunity to write something with Korra's parents._

_RxR_


	2. The Key to a Relationship

_disclaimer: I own nothing._

_MakoxKorra_

* * *

The Key to a Relationship

* * *

_"Communication is tha most important thing inna relationship, Mako. Because women always talk, and one day ya gonna find the one and hafta say somethin' back…"_

That was the only advice he had ever received from Toza that didn't have anything to do with Pro-Bending. From back in the beginning when Mako wasn't as trusting of the other man, and the name "The Bending Brothers" better known than his own. He understood why he had been singled out; Bolin didn't have trouble talking to the small but growing group of fans—fangirls—that gathered outside the arena for them.

He just wasn't a fan of talking. He had just come from a life where talking wasn't valued so much as fighting. And since the day he had learned that the fire that shot from his fists could defend him and his little brother, he had preferred it to words.

It more of the same now…only the relationship he was in now, the relationship he had with Korra, made him do things differently. Or maybe it wasn't differently; maybe the way they spoke to each other when they were alone was the way everyone who had ever been in a relationship acted:

_"I think it was the grandma for me today…"_

_It was really early in their relationship, a few days from their return from the Southern Water Tribe. They were sitting on a bench in a small garden within City Hall. Korra had been spending a series of days sitting in a room guarded with soldiers from the United Forces and healing people that came to have their bending restored. It would be the last time she gave her aid to the councilmen before they disbanded. _

_But the day was done, and they were spending time together, not really caring about what would happen for the rest of the evening._

_"Did you see her walk in?"_

_"I think so…" He had bought her a little bag of cherry candies from the shopping district and, in spite her promises to share, was currently watching her eat the last two pieces._

_"She came right before there was a break, so they let her stay in the room for a little longer." She took a deep breath. "…She was a Waterbender. And she told me she had moved from her tribe just like me, only it was the Northern Tribe. The Equalists had broken into her home; she had been defending her grandson, but they overpowered her and took her to Amon._

_"…She had had her bending for so long." Her eyes squinted but her gaze was focused on her boots; her imagination was running wild._

_Mako knew what she was implying. Yes, Korra had lost her bending for a short time, for a few short hours, and yes, it had awoken her Airbending…but for someone like her who valued and was defined by her bending, who would always be a Waterbender as well as The Avatar…_

_His hand wrapped around hers, palm to palm, his fingers weaved in between hers. To steer away her thoughts and fears, to assure her everything was okay._

_"I was healing her. I was in the Avatar State; we were connected, and she…I don't know what happened. I felt all of these emotions. Sadness and fear and all this joy! I could feel that she was so happy—it was like I was just as happy. But all of a sudden it was like I was outside myself."_

_His forehead wrinkled, worried. He angled his body towards her slightly, a bit more attentive than he had been before. "…What do you mean?"_

_"I can't explain it too well…" She faced him, and her blue eyes softened and her lips pulled into a small smile. "Don't look so worried," she pointed to the space between her eyebrows, indicating his was puckered. "I guess what I mean is, I felt like I connected with this woman a bit more strongly than some of the others…I know people have been happy when I heal them, but with her, I felt __everything__. …I pulled away from her and she had tears in her eyes, and I did too."_

_Korra became somber._

_"…It's good that you felt that way."_

_"I've never heard of Aang or any other avatar being able to do that."_

_"Every avatar does things differently…I feel like emotion is a big part of The Avatar State; you're using the emotions of all of them that came before. So it's good that you're not just using it when you're fighting, but also when people come to you and really need you._

_"What?" He had finally noticed the look of awe in her face, the wide, clear look of her blue eyes; the small smirk on her face. _

_"That was really sweet." Her lips pulled into a smirk and that little dimple he had been starting to notice appeared with it. But he noted that her voice had lowered, to a husky whisper, and her eyes had shifted for one quick moment to check that the small yard was still empty._

_He knew what was coming. Which was why he leaned towards her._

_"That's what boyfriends are for: to be sweet their girlfriends."_

_"Oh." She leaned forward too, placing her hand on his knee to balance herself. He could feel the heat coming through her palm. "Well, you're really good at it."_

_He could feel his own skin getting warm. "I try." _

_Their lips met. She tasted like the candies she had been eating: sweet; syrupy. Her lips felt soft and warm, her Firebending raising her body temperature ever so slightly. He deepened the kiss, and put his arm around her shoulders. And then he did something he had been wanting to try since maybe the fourth or fifth time they had ever kissed, gently sliding his tongue across her bottom lip._

_She squeaked at the sensation, drew in a deep breath from her nose and pulled away, slowly enough to let him suck on her lip. She didn't say anything important; a half-hearted warning about Tenzin maybe being around. She didn't have to talk about the..."new move"... the rosy look to her cheeks and that little dimple were enough._

But sometimes he wasn't sure if communication was all it was cracked up to be.

Cut to two months later, on the deck of a ship heading to The Southern Water Tribe:

_"Of course you take his side." Korra's forehead was wrinkled, her voice hard. She had gone from sitting shoulder to shoulder with him to standing tall in a matter of seconds._

_"I'm not taking his side," He had no idea how she had just jumped to that conclusion. Sometimes it was crazy how quickly she could jump from subject to subject like that. "I'm just—"_

_But she was already on her feet. "—I'm gonna take a walk."_

_What else could he do—except move his feet so she could get by? _

_He watched her retreating figure and remembered Toza's advice about women…and wished that it had come with a part two: that sometimes, not even communication works when the girl you love is really mad at you. _

_He fell back against Naga's warm, furry side. "Why is it easier to bust through Triads than it is to have one conversation with my girlfriend?"_

* * *

_Getting my thoughts in a good place to write this took forever. But I like it—it was the blending of two ideas I wanted to explore: Korra restoring bending back to people, and of course, the Makorra relationship…going off what we know about Mako and Korra, I really think non-verbals play a much bigger role in their relationship than just words, but it may be even more so since Korra is so vocal and Mako speaks when he feels he truly has something to say._

_I don't know about you, but I've been feeling like the gap between the last episode from Book 1 and the first episode left a lot to be desired. Plus, I really liked the Bender/Equalist angle from Book 1; going to Spirits seems to be such a huge turnaway…maybe they're setting it up to run co-currently? _

_Anyway…_

_R&R_


	3. Family Relations

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Aang

* * *

Family Relations

* * *

There was a hum in Aang's ears, a murmuring of ancient rites and passages that had grown into a crescendo. He stared at all…these _people_ who called themselves Air Acolytes. Who dressed like him, in brown and gold with their heads bowed and their lips moving, reciting the chants from his history, of his nation's past and his childhood.

And then stared he at the young man sitting before him on the temple's cold, marble floor. Tenzin, his youngest, dressed in simple light-brown linen pants. Head shaven, forever to be bare of hair. Legs crossed and hands rested on his knees. With his eyes closed in meditation and his lips parting slightly with the murmurs of his prayers, Aang briefly thought of Katara's words upon first seeing this change in her son, her observation that Tenzin was even more like a warped mirror vision of himself, for while his Airbending side was clear, the Water Tribe blood that coursed in his veins showed with the curve of his cheekbones and the slight fullness of his lips.

Aang's fingers tightened around the _uhi_, the tipped chisel, in his right hand. His left tightened around the bowl of water in his palm.

This was a great day.

His son was being marked with an arrow.

The arrow was a rite of passage, the recognition of a Master Airbender. It was a symbol of your bending skill, of your understanding of your nation's history and legacy, and a recognition amongst your people. It was a showcase of your spirituality and a tribute paid to the spirits themselves, a painful event that would take place for days. But for Aang, on this day, it was so much more: the continuation of his nation; another step in his life-long dream of rebuilding his nation, the family he had lost to war and violence; his legacy and teachings, for after all, one day the next Avatar would come and would need a teacher.

He knelt down on one knee before his youngest, careful not to upset his materials: the towel and rubbing alcohol, the water and dry blue pigment; the salt and mortar and pestle; and the parchment that bared the sweeping pattern Aang would carve on his son's skin. Aang dipped the uhi into the pigment, making sure not to spill a drop, and pressed the blade against Tenzin's forehead, six inches above the center of his eyebrows. The chanting in the room grew louder as the acolytes watched.

The grimace that marked Tenzin's face was slight but expected. Aang had told him, _No matter how deep you are in your meditations, the first mark will always take you out of it. But you must not move. You must not lose focus._ The pad of his fingers pressed against his youngest's skin, coaxing him to relax his brow. Tenzin complied, his chants never ceasing, his eyes never opening.

Aang was reminded of when he himself had finished getting his arrow: sleeping off the pain and fatigue; staring at himself in the bathhouse mirrors alone, away from the prying eyes of the monks and even Gyatso; eating his favorite meal; and the admiration shared by his friends whose own skin had also been carved and tinted blue. The joy. The pride. The feeling of your fingers against the grooves in your skin. It would only be later that Aang would realize what awaited him as an Avatar.

And he thought about what awaited Tenzin. The reporters that would gather to volley questions at him; the increased talks he would want to be a part of; the warm reception of his older siblings and mother that would bely the fact that while they were proud and knew what this meant, it would be an honor they themselves would never truly, fully understand.

But of course Tenzin would accept it all. Tenzin was the serious side of himself. The side of himself that accepted and respected his responsibility as a Master Airbender and future leader and teacher, and would never waver from it.

Pinpricks of blood began to form on his skin. Aang placed down the bowl and picked up the towel.

* * *

There came announcement: _passengers now boarding for the __S.S. Lion Turtle__, Mezzanine Deck for The Northern Water Tribe in Dock 3A._

Aang shrugged off the duffle bag he had been carrying and placed it on the ground for the moment. And then he stared into the eyes of Kya, pausing to take a picture of her in his mind before the moment when she would truly have to leave.

His daughter—his only daughter. The most expressive of his three children, with her long, icy-blue colored hair and aquamarine-colored furs. The fiercest of his three children.

…The fiercest…

All his children had their angry moments, their moments of lashing out in protest, but Kya's were the most ferocious. Their nature went beyond the family joke of her temper coming from her mother's side, although her mother's side was there—angry words designed to flow like an angry river; a furrowed brow; a tightened jaw and pouted lip. But his angry side was there as well: in the volume in her voice, the swift way she rounded on the other person and then suddenly withdrew from the room, not in protest, but to prove her point. Stubborn and unwilling to bend or be persuaded any longer.

Like him.

They had been giving each other the silent treatment for weeks now.

_"That's fine; I have a record now and that's fine! I don't care. I really don't. I don't care how it makes you look either!" …Her angry words that early in the morning had echoed against the walls and spilled the cup of stale water and inkwells on his office desk…his angry words about how her behavior reflected on him, their family._

They hadn't spoken naturally, easily in weeks. Not since her recent apprehension after a speakeasy she had been attended was raided. She was twenty—not too young for her to be taken into the station and have that mark on a brand new police record; not too young for it to be written and embellished in the gossip section of the newspaper: The Avatar's only daughter, arrested early that morning…caught in a social setting frowned upon by the general public and was the many thorns in the police department's side.

Now there had been a residual clash in the following weeks that had culminated in her frequently leaving the room when he walked in and a roll of her beautiful blue eyes whenever he spoke to her nicely and then demanded she acknowledged him as well.

_"…I don't feel like I'm part Airbender; I don't feel like that exists in me," she slapped her hand against her chest to emphasize her words. The conversation had become sidetracked by other things, other problems she had caused, that he had wanted to wait until he had a calm moment to address. Hot, angry tears ran down her eyes. "—not like how maybe Tenzin feels because…because he has you to teach him Airbending! He has you all the time. __He__ never does anything wrong, Tenzin, the golden child…and Bumi, who tries too hard to please you all the time—not like __Kya__ who just wanted to listen to some music from a Waterbending tribe!"_

Her announcement that she was moving to The Northern Water Tribe ten days later floored him, a sudden outburst made during a quiet moment in their home. A disruption of peace, akin to the attacks he made upon cities and fortresses in his youth. Only more heartbreaking.

_"I want to be somewhere that's authentic to me. That has people like me—who dress like me, who share my culture and don't have to sneak around to enjoy it. My true culture. …I have a friend who says her friend will put me up until I can get on my feet…and her friend is starting a dance troupe and needs another person. So, I'll be fine. I've already bought my ticket."_

"Last call for all passengers to the Mezzanine Deck."

Kya's arm reached out towards him and he complied with her silent request for her duffle bag. The look in her eyes were still hard, still angry and fierce. But there was the slight pout of her lips. He was reminded of the days when she was younger, the times they spent walking around the island, hand in hand, the sweep of the golden dress an Air Acolyte, a former seamstress, had made for her. He missed those days.

"Okay…" Her voice was tired, soft. Without the ferocity he had known for some time now; back to those old days when she was little. "...I have to go now."

He was sad to see her go.

He was worried about her plans, the gaps in her itinerary. The fact that she refused to stay with diplomats her uncle knew.

He was hesitant to let her go. He was accepting that he had to find herself—her words, her mother's words.

He was proud, above all things. Of his fierce, beautiful daughter.

His arms wrapped around her. "Good luck. And know you can come back whenever you're ready."

She melted in his arms. "Thank you. I'll be fine." She pulled away, the smile on her closed lips tight with lines in the corner.

"I know." She gave him a brief, fierce squeeze and then took her things. Her walk was strong and sure, uncaring if the man who took her ticket raised his eyebrows at her hair or recognized her.

* * *

He was angry. He was beyond angry.

Another shenanigan from Bumi—a costly shenanigan this time.

He stared at the hole in the side of the building he had granted Bumi to work in, a necessary space away from the rest of structures and passerby on the island. And the scorch marks that framed it…and the chunks of gray brick all over the property. And Bumi himself, fifteen years old and covered in soot, his clothing tattered, hair either singed, in patches, or in the case of his left eyebrow, completely missing.

Bumi was safe. That was important to him. The most important thing to him, even if he didn't show it with the frown on his face, the slight bags under his eyes. He was safe, like his younger sister and brother.

But…Bumi had destroyed half the building.

Aang didn't have time for this. There was no way he had time for this—he thought about the mountain of papers on his desk; the meeting he had scheduled with the police commissioner and chief he had in the morning to discuss the rising gang activity in the city; Katarra's worries about the upcoming due dates for the female sky bison; the arrival of leaders for the other temples for their annual festivities two months down the line. Budgets...costs...

He didn't have time for this. He could already imagine the Air Acolytes and Katara and Kya and Tenzin coming to see what the problem was. He could already imagine his wife healing their son, more worried than reprimanding about his behavior.

Playful. Too playful. Like his namesake, his old friend…like he himself when he was fifteen.

Bumi was already ambling towards him, his mouth full of apologies and explanations: he had been working something, a sort of bomb that would fire off a multiple series of shots—flashes that would blind the enemy and enable troops to use the confusion to their advantage.

"Bumi, I have always told you be careful with the things you experiment with. Anyone could have walked by and gotten hurt—you could experienced something worse than that!" Up close, Aang could notice the small cuts and bruises on his skin.

Bumi's nervous smile melted away immediately. "Dad," Bumi's voice had deepened a bit and it was always a little jarring, a reminder that his eldest son wasn't a child and yet, in so many ways, was a child. "I'm really sorry. I accidentally added just too much of the—"

"You could have sent the whole building up in flames! Do you realize that?!"

Bumi's mouth closed with a clack, and his eyes became downcast.

"…I will never stop you from doing whatever it is you're doing in there, but I need you to take your experiments, yours and everyone else's safety, seriously. You need to be more responsible."

Aang inhaled deeply, bringing air into his lungs. Something he always had to do when it came to Bumi. "You will clean this up as much as you can…whatever you don't finish before dinnertime will be done tomorrow morning…And then we should sit and talk about what's happened here and what we're going to do about it."

Aang gave one brief look at the sullen look on his eldest's face and then turned away. Back to work, back to solving problems, back to the real, working world.

* * *

_The idea that Aang, whom we all love, not being a great father to all his children was something that both interested and floored me, yet wasn't enough to inspire me to write about it immediately—I'm lazy, people. But their fight was interesting, so when someone else brought it up, I got to thinking…and then I got to writing. I actually enjoyed writing this a lot; there was so many faccets to explore. I started with the idea that each of his children is like him in some way-serious (Tenzin); fierce (Kya); playful (Bumi)—and went from there._

_There was so much to this. Different timeframes and events in their lives. Different ages. Tenzin's ficclet is inspired by something else I wanted to write stemming from Aang's arrow in the movie and Korra's move to become more acquainted with her Airbending side. The idea of Kya having dyed hair comes from the ficclet "Twins" I wrote for the first series of "Green, Red, Gold and Blue." And Bumi always struck me as being a sort of inventor—kind of like Sokka but more so…mad-sciencey. _

_R&R_


	4. Left at the Altar

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Eska

* * *

Left at the Altar

* * *

She didn't cry very often. And that was because she never gave herself over to her emotions very often. She wasn't her cousin.

Her cousin. Kor-ra…She was reminded of her immediate suspicions. That the cause of what she was going through had something to do with her cousin. Kor-ra.

_Feelings..._More tears…a chokehold on the flowers in her hand…more…_feelings_.

She was supposed to have been wed by now. "Icy bliss"…that was the phrase she had used.

"You seem to be under emotional distress, Eska."

She stared about the empty chapel, ignoring the grimace on the priest's face, and meeting Desna's eyes. Her brother walked towards her, eyebrows furrowed and jaw tight and wiped against her cheek, showing a wet streak of blue…her eye make-up. It was a move of…disapproval, a subtle hint of how out of character she was acting.

They were out of sync; she..._felt_ out of sync. She wanted to shout, "I _am_ under emotional distress," but there was no point in being redundant. Or shouting. It was likely plain on her face; it unnerved her.

And then she heard it—the sounds of shouting and screaming. Kor-ra, her cousin, causing a disturbance in the streets, escaping from the authorities. Performing what she clearly thought was her Avatar duties, albeit in that volatile, impulsive manner. Letting her emotions getting the best of her. Causing chaos, citizens of the south fighting against their northern authorities. And then came yells of a flaming biplane marking the sky.

Kor-ra.

Korra.

And then it all clicked.

Bolin. The one place Bolin would be; the one person Bolin would be with.

Bolin had refused her love. He had refused the decision she had made to save their relationship. He had chosen Korra over her and her feelings.

She didn't feel sadness—just a...pang in her heart. There was anger; there was the hot flash of betrayal that warmed her face. And yet there was calm, a sureness of what she would do to Bolin once she had him back in her arms.

…Dolphin piranhas…

She didn't speak, just turned on her heel, detaching herself from her twin and dropped the flowers at the chapel floor. Her footsteps were sure; her hands moved of their own will, clearing her path of the southern people and northern footmen. She was a force much greater than chaos; much more lethal than any military coup or being was capable of. Her path brought her to the dock and the yacht within her sights. Her hands rose in a sweeping arch, bending the water to her will.

Her face grimaced. To be more frightening, more intimidating. Bolin responded to fear; he had forgotten that he was powerless in his fear of her.

Her feet left the dock.

Bolin _would_ be hers again.

Or he would be no one's ever.

* * *

_A quickie…_


	5. Sexual Tension

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

_Warning: T/M rated thoughts._

_Korra_

* * *

Sexual Tension

* * *

She couldn't sleep.

There was a ball of tension deep in the pit of her stomach.

She had sought him out in the dead of night because…because she had been tired of thinking. Of all the thoughts racing through her head: guilt and worry about what she couldn't deny were right, but still impulsive, actions—freeing her dad and the other men, but then having to leave them; stopping Unaloq but then launching the two water tribes into an all-out war; and, _oh Spirits_, her mother who had no idea of what was going on… And Mako, knowing her well, had invited her inside his room.

She herself had gone underneath the bed covers. And she had been perfectly fine, or too preoccupied because every tense thought in her head that was suddenly blurted out of her mouth had led him to bringing her closer to him without her realizing it.

"_Korra, you can do this."_ His voice had been low, husky, she realized now. _"We're going to get to the president and explain to him what's going on. I'm sure that you'll be able to convince him to back The Southern Water Tribe…I'll be standing right beside you."_

And then all of a sudden, his head dipped down and he kissed her. Long and sweet, like the kisses they shared when it was daylight. The kind that felt warm and ended with him biting her bottom lip. His eyes had been smoldering when he pulled away. Like always. Her hands had reached up to grip his shoulders, to hold on. A subconscious reaction that had been happening before they had left Republic City.

His honey-brown eyes had been smoldering when he pulled away, the smirk on his lush lips becoming quizzical. _"…Do you want to stay?…I promise I won't do anything."_

"_Yeah."_ She hadn't really understood why her voice had sounded so…soft and girly.

She knew now, in the stillness of the room with the thin curtains barely shrouding the moon and stars pinpricking the sky and the steady rocking of the large, plush bed.

Her senses were heightened, but none so much as touch—his touch against places he had never really touched before: she was hyperaware of his hand on the curve of her hip; of her chest pressed against his side with his right arm pillowing her head and the thin fabrics of their shirts keeping them from skin to skin; and her leg draped over his. Add that with everything else: his smell, the gentle motions of his breathing, the warmth of his body…and the fact that they were alone, lying down together.

Her imagination was in overdrive: him waking up; his hands roaming over her curves, maybe lifting up her shirt; thoughts about them taking off each other's clothes, how she would look naked, how he would look naked; _it_, how _it_ looked and felt; and how _it_ would feel inside her and if it would really hurt—

That tension had moved to in between her legs and was throbbing, something pleasant and unpleasant at the same time.

She'd be lying if she never admitted that before traveling to The Southern Water Tribe thoughts of Mako crossed her mind when she was alone in bed. They had known each other for a while; they had been through a lot together…she was comfortable with him.

She wished what she was feeling would go away; curious about what would happen if it didn't…if they—could she make the first move?

The apex of her legs continued to throb with a growing heat with that pleasant, unpleasant _yearning_.

This had been a bad idea.

Is this how every girl every time she was alone with the person she liked?

The feeling was getting harder to ignore and put aside. Her heart pounded her nervousness.

This had been a _really_ bad idea.

Maybe it was better to slip out and head to her room. New ideas bounced around in her head, her body tensing with the goal of getting out of Mako's warm, plush bed without waking him up. Her leg lifted slightly and slid over until it hung from the bed; she propped herself on her left arm, ignoring the prickly, numb feeling…slowly…slowly…he wouldn't miss her. If he did in the morning, she could always say she went to the bathroom and didn't want to risk waking him up by coming back—something like that.

His right arm moved from underneath her. He squirmed in his sleep, turning on his side and facing her. His left arm draped over her waist, fingertips on the small of her back as he brought her closer to him. She could feel…it…against her, not close to that tension between her legs, but close enough.

"…Korra…" Her name, thick with sleep from his lips, made her ears burn.

More throbbing…

And sleep still the furthest thing from her mind.

* * *

_I miss the Makorra sexual tension from the first season. This may become rated M…depends on when I actually write it out._


	6. Officer Huang

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

_Bolin_

* * *

_Officer Huang_

* * *

_You're an orphan and have been for a long time. In fact, there really hasn't been a time when you remember not being an orphan. You're nine—almost ten._

_You have an older brother. He's twelve. He's not just your older brother—he's your father and your mother. He would do anything in the world for you, and you don't know that just because he tells you so. You know it because…you just know. He was the one who made you leave the orphanage and its small, but warm beds and three-times-a-day meals because he didn't like that different people wanted to adopt you; he didn't want to never see you again. He's the one that tells you it's wrong to steal, but then steals food when you don't stop telling him you're hungry. He even gives you his share even though he's hungry. He's the one that stays awake whenever you spend the night under the bridge with other homeless people and runaways, palms ready to bend fire because he doesn't trust the other sleeping bodies. He's the one that runs numbers for The Triple Threat Triads. And even when you get in trouble, he's the one that fights your battles. Even when the other guys are bigger. Even when he loses and they beat him up. _

_It's you and him. And it's not so bad. _

_Except…it's been bad lately._

_It's almost the end of winter, that time when Republic City sees more snowfalls than usual. It's been a little harder to get food lately. Harder than how it was last year. And now that the Pro-bending season is over, Lighting Bolt Zolt doesn't always need your brother to run numbers for him. _

_There's always been a job your older brother can do for awhile, maybe something involving firebending the Satomobile factory. He doesn't like the pay, but it was steady enough, and you both got new blankets out of it. But the guy who hired him a year ago left and now there's Hao. Hao, a Metalbender with gray hair and gray pupils, says he's only looking for kids at least thirteen-years-old. And somehow he can tell someone's age just by closing his eyes and listening to them talk—when you ask him how, he says his ears are just as good as Old Chief Beifong's…he can hear a person's vocal chords and can tell when they're not developed yet._

_There's no way to prove this. And there's nothing your brother can do. Except scheme. And steal more._

_And it's easy to scheme and steal because with the falling snow and cold, the vendors have come out and their carts and grills dot the streets. Those old men, huddled in their coats with their hands hovering over their grills, aren't paying attention to the little kids darting around under the awning over store shops or that big tarp where the open marketplace takes place on weekends. And in the confusion of those small, eager hands grabbing those pieces of greasy food and disgruntled patrons, it's hard for them to remember to call for the police. _

_That doesn't mean that you can't get caught. Sometimes another kid will tip a cart, but will mess up and make it hard for you to tip a cart because now all the vendors are paying closer attention. And the police station is close to the marketplace: sometimes they do catch you and keep you in the station and then take you to the orphanage. You've heard about kids who go back and run away again or can't run away and are like, stuck there. But in spite the risks, it's a solution, a quick one that can work better than waiting or starving or walking around the cold for food elsewhere. And it's a sure fire plan._

_So you and your brother are in the marketplace because it's crowded enough and most of the cobblestones are loose, and your brother says you can choose what you both eat: noodles, kebobs, roasted nuts, dried lychee, or dumplings. _

_Even though dumplings are your favorite, you pick steamed buns. Because they're big, and the man who's cooking them is a grandpa, the color of a dried apricot with huge stomach and a shock of gray-white hair, hunchbacked and bundled in a thick coat, and settled on a high stool. He's practically sleeping._

_You earthbend. It's easy to overturn the particular cobblestone you're focused on and even though you did too much and pulled out the small rectangular brick and broke one of the cart's legs, you did what you wanted to do. Charcoal, kung-pao boxes, and the containers of water and grease fall; the bowl full of cooked buns spills, sending some of those little pork-filled balls of to the ground. And there goes your brother leaving you to follow after, his scarf flapping in the wind and hands scooping up the food and holding it close to the chest. The yells of the old man already sound far away. Your stomach grumbles because it knows you're almost free—no one's chasing after you; the bodies you bump into are like a colorful blur; and your stomach is growling and your heart is beating like a drum. _

_And then it all stops._

_A policeman appears out of nowhere, a rock in a receding sea of people. And yeah, he's a big guy in that suit, so maybe that's why your brother stops in his tracks and trips sending your food everywhere. And even though you're right beside him, yelling at him to get up and snap out of it because the dumplings are gone, he doesn't snap out of it—he's shocked; his eyes are wide and his mouth is open a little._

_And now there's more yelling. That old man has actually hobbled over—red in his wrinkled face trying to get the policeman's attention. Waving his hands and screaming because he thought you were going to get away. You're the brats that broke his cart and now he can't make anymore money and you should be arrested because you're a nuisance like all the other urchins of Republic City. _

_The policeman grabs your brother's shirt, dragging his feet along the ground. And he grabs your arm to keep you from running away too, but you're not going anywhere. How can you when there's no one else in the world that can take care of you like he can?_

_Your brother is still staring at the officer. Stricken. And that's when you finally sort of realize that this policeman looks like the memory of someone long ago: your father. You don't remember a lot about your father because you've been without him for so long…but sometimes when you dream, you can imagine how you know he looked like. That part of you somehow seems him built like an Earthbender even though he was Firebende: in your memories, he's a giant with broad shoulders and strong arms that used to spin you around until your feet stopped touching the ground …your brother says you look a lot like him, minus your eyes. _

_That grandpa is still yelling._

"…_Stay here." The policeman's voice is deep, like the sound of thunder coming from far away. He lets your arm and your brother's shirt go and walks over to the man, his boots crunching in the snow. You know how easy it would be for him to catch you in the dense crowd of people watching you or trying to get around you, but don't leave because your older brother doesn't. _

"…_I understand your concerns… Were you able to find another policeman to assist you? Okay…would you like to take a statement? Okay." He's pulled out a notepad and a pen and is nodding his head now, listening to the old man. "I believe the property owners award slight compensation for broken materials. Is that cart your own?" He's staring back at you and your brother, watching to see if you run away. "Hmm…I believe they still provide compensation, although the amount is smaller because it is your material. Yes, it is strange to hear that in this day and age. You should file a report with them as well…I understand…" _

_The man walks back to you and grabs your arm again. And he promises in that deep voice of his that he's going to turn you in to the station. You're forced to move and you look down at your footsteps to make sure you don't slip as you're carried towards City Hall. You see your worn shoe step on piece of your lost, stolen meal, and the bit of pork that oozes out of its center._

_You're expecting to see the police station any minute now, and a cell where other kids say they're kept, and eventually the orphanage. _

_You're not expecting him to drop your arm the moment you're far enough away from the marketplace. He turns to stare at you and you feel like you've become a puzzle he's trying to figure out. Your eyes roam to avoid his gaze but you can only look at his gray uniform. His badge says his name is "Ji Huang." "…What are your names?"_

_Your brother doesn't speak…you answer for the two of you. _

_He gives that see-through-stare to your brother. "He's older."_

_Yes._

_You're not expecting him to crouch down slightly and become eye-to-eye with your brother. You're not expecting him to stare for so long. "You seem like a smart young man. So why did you do something so stupid?"_

_He doesn't answer, just blinks and furrows his brow and swallows. _

_Office Huang is still waiting for your brother's answer._

_But you speak up without meaning to or really saying anything; the sound of your stomach is loud and angry and desperate._

_Officer Huang hears the sound, of course. But he doesn't ask another question. He just straightens up with a quiet grunt until he's tall and an adult and your small and a kid again. _

"_Come with me." He turns away from you and starts walking away. He's not going towards the station anymore. _

…_Your brother follows. And you follow your brother. _

_You're led to a fast food place, a small-ish place with a multitude of booths separated by simple but pretty paper walls, semi-low lights and a candle placed in the midst of sauces and toothpick and napkin holders on the smooth wooden table tops. At Officer Huang's direction, you sit in the first booth on the right and you accept the menus he hands to you. He talks to the waitress that comes up in an easy, familiar way full of laughter and jokes. He orders tea for himself and hot chocolate for you two. _

"_Pick anything you want."_

_You stare at your brother for a beat, but when he doesn't say anything or pull his gaze away from Office Huang, you don't hesitate. You order the large order of dumplings, imagining how it will look exactly like the picture when it comes. Officer Huang orders noodles for himself, Water Tribe style, and 3 buns for your brother._

_The waitress comes with the drinks and takes your orders. You're already done with your hot chocolate when the food comes. _

_You don't hold back, but you stare at your brother. He's not eating. He just stares at Officer Huang…and Officer Huang is breaks his chopsticks, but he's also staring back. _

"…_Why are you doing this?" Your brother suddenly growls out the question. Compared to the officer, his voice doesn't sound quite as deep as the officer. "Why did you bring us here and not to the station like you told that guy you would?" Your brother's fist slams against the table, making the plain white plates shake._

"_Because you were hungry, correct? Both of you were hungry. That's why you stole the food."_

_Your brother's hard look softens. "…Why __else__?"_

_Officer Huang drops his chopsticks and intertwines his fingers, to really think about the question. "You have no home, yes?" He takes your brother's silence as a confirmation. "You have him," the policeman points at you, "and he has you… I did because…because…you're good kids. And you seem like a smart boy—someone who knows what's right and wrong."_

_Your brother stops glaring at him. _

_The policeman hunches forward and stares at the bowl of steaming noodles. And his brow is wrinkled, like he's trying to figure out how to answer. "And life is hard…I can understand that, even without knowing your story…" Officer Huang sighs and lifts his eyes and stares around, as if the answer is in the air itself. "I…guess I did it because I understand how hard it is not to do the right thing sometimes. How sometimes it's necessary to do wrong especially when you have to do it for the sake of someone else. But even though it's hard and doing bad things can be necessary, you have to remember not to get caught up. _

"_A lot of kids that do what you did today; they get caught up without realizing it. But one day, a very small chance for you not to get caught up anymore can and will come along. And you have to see it and take it like I did. I saw my chance to wear this uniform, and I took it._

"…_Maybe I would have done this for another pair of kids running with stolen food today, but I think it's good that I did it for you. Because I can tell you still realize how important it is to not get caught up. And that you'd understand if someone told you."_

"_Do you understand?"_

_Your brother nods slowly._

_Officer Huang nods again, satisfied with his words. He picks up his chopsticks again and gathers more noodles. "Okay. Eat your lunch."_

_And your brother does. _

* * *

_One thing that I haven't quite understood since the first episode of this season is why Mako is a policeman and no longer a pro-Bender. He had talent as the latter; I'm sure it wasn't a storyline that…weakened with the end of the first season. So I created this story and I made up Officer Huang. This ficclet is much like "Numbers" and "Numbers II" that I wrote for the last SORGGB, but I thought it would be better to have this in Bolin's perspective (especially since what they've got him doing doesn't bring me any kind of inspiration). I hope to explore Mako's change once more, but we shall see. _

_R&R. Giving feedback inspires me to write faster. _


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